As the People’s Republic of China (PRC) celebrates its 75th birthday on October 1, it’s high fashion time to unravel the threads of its sartorial revolution across the decades. Spoiler alert: it’s more than just a change of clothes—this style evolution speaks volumes about the nation’s social transformation.
Oh, and just for you, dear reader—because we actually care—we’re ditching the usual formatting rules for this one. That’s right, no Chinese characters for certain trends and terms (gasp!).
So, without further ado… Gird your loins because we’re about to stitch together the past and present in style. Let’s go!
The year is 1965. The PRC’s lookbook is one of radical simplicity, practicality and… uniformity, all in line with the socialist values of the time. Image via Dushu263.com
Fashion, though often seen as a flimsy topic dangling on the fringes of the “serious content” spectrum, is a reflection of societal changes–as well as reveals deeper narratives.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the PRC, where style has transformed from the strict uniformity of the Mao suit to the glamorous embrace of globalization in just over seven decades.
So, as the PRC celebrates the 75th anniversary of its founding on October 1, this author, a Sinologist who explores China through the lens of, you guessed it, fashion, figured it was high time to decode the nation’s sartorial revolution over the decades—and what that tells us about its societal evolution.
Buckle up!
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Fabric of Society
The year was 1949. The newly born PRC was still dusting itself off after many years of Japanese occupation followed by civil war. Economic challenges were widespread, with even basic necessities like food and fabric in short supply.
Enter the humble Mao suit (or the Zhongshan suit), the symbol of the era. This ensemble was originally often worn by Sun Yat-sen (Sun Zhongshan), a founding father of the Republic of China (1912-49) but became de rigueur when Mao Zedong came into power. Its straight cut made it the quintessential symbol of equality and practicality, reflecting the socialist values of the time. Equality wasn’t just an idea—it was a look; androgynous dressing was the new normal.
Throughout the 1950s, China embraced socialist reforms full throttle and fashion followed suit—as clothing was standardized and began to be mass-produced. Blue suits also found their place in this era. Blue being a color widely associated with the working class–factory workers, peasants and laborers, these durable, affordable garments symbolized the values of hard work and perseverance.
Families had to stretch their threads as far as possible–mending, patching and passing down garments like family heirlooms. Ration coupons, known as bupiao for cloth and liangpiao for food, doled out based on family size and region, became a lifeline during this time.
Ration coupons, known as bupiao for cloth, liangpiao for food and youpiao for cooking oil, doled out based on family size and region, became a lifeline from the 1950s until the 1980s and early 1990s. Image via Beijing Review
Female factory workers in the 1950s. Image via China Daily
Students at Yenching’s Women’s University in Nanjing are wearing qipao in the 1940s–just to give you a visual impression of the iconic dress. Image via ThePankou.com
As the Cultural Revolution (1966-76) unfolded, the young PRC’s lookbook continued to showcase a sense of radical simplicity. Military influence, too, spread to civilian wardrobes, with the People’s Liberation Army (PLA)’s olive-green uniforms and long padded coats also becoming standard clothing items for civilians.
But perhaps to many a reader’s surprise, even though these w ere times of turmoil, hints of old traditions began to creep back in, particularly among the urban elites. Some women, for example, opted to, on occasion, don a traditional qipao, the one-piece long(er) dress that had emerged in the cosmopolitan city of Shanghai around 1927.
Those who wanted to stand out while rocking their go-to blue twinset also found creative ways to bend the rules (a little). Some young people added a dash of flair, “sneaking in” ribbons, pins or brooches. A Mao badge here, a red armband there—just enough to give their look a little extra oomph while staying on the right side of the political “dress code.” Subtle, but enough to keep things interesting.
Of course, even as these whispers of personal flair tried to peek through, practicality, modesty and uniformity remained the loudest voices.
In her 2021 interview with the shishang nainai (literally “fashionable grandmas”), the then quartet of late-aged urbanite influencers, strutting their stuff on catwalks and covers alike, this author briefly touched on their childhood memories in the early 1970s. The women spoke about the “simple life” back in the day, not going into much detail but fondly remembering the occasional colorful ribbon adorning their braids or pigtails.
And not all styles were singing “the blues.” The fiery red dongbei dahua (“northeastern large flower” pattern, a traditional fabric pattern featuring large peony blossoms) cotton-padded jacket, originated in northeast China in the 1960s, adding a touch of warmth to the austerity of rural life at the time.
We will leave behind the era of blue suits and ration coupons, marked by a focus on function over flair, and fast forward to the pivotal moment of 1978, when the PRC opened its doors to the world, spurring an evolution seen in every stitch, trend and, later, runway.
Cyclists wait at a light on Chang’an Avenue in Beijing in 1985. Image via Spanish.people.cn
A Seamless Transition?
“My father brought me back my first pair of jeans from the United States. I was hooked!” one of the shishang nainai exclaimed during our 2021 conversation. The fab four then whipped out photos from the early to mid- 1980s, revealing that, denim aside, the perm had practically been a national treasure. Curls, waves and all the glorious volume had swept the nation like a tidal wave of hairspray.
As the PRC embarked on its reform and opening up in the late 1970s and early 1980s under then Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping, it started to loosen its belt on the planned economy, giving way to a more market-oriented system. And the winds of change began to blow through the nation’s wardrobe as well. With production ramping up, the bupiao were swiftly becoming more outdated than a Mao suit at a Wham! concert.
Fun fact: the iconic British pop band consisting of George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley, both sporting very big hair, performed in China in 1985, an occasion to this day considered a cultural watershed moment.
The exact end date of cloth coupon use varied depending on the region, but generally, they were no longer widely used by the mid-1980s to early 1990s.
Iconic British pop band Wham!, i.e., George Michael (left) and Andrew Ridgeley, pose for pics on the Great Wall of China in 1985. With their image of optimism and inspiration, as opposed to sex, dr*gs and rock ‘n roll, they were the first Western pop band invited to perform in China. Image via China.org.cn
Fashion was no longer in the gray zone. As the 80s rolled on, China began to see a shift in style—not necessarily a seamless transition, but undeniably one coming to life. The rigid, military-inspired uniforms still had a stronghold in rural areas, where people were a little more attached to their PLA coats. But in the big cities like Beijing and Shanghai, something new was brewing. As people unbuttoned their political jackets, they let in a little more flair, a little more color. Western styles, like jeans and T-shirts, started making their way into closets, offering a taste of China’s blossoming individualism.
By the mid to late 1980s, fashionistas of the future were already on the rise. Urban youth were embracing pop culture from Hong Kong and Taiwan, and they were ready to break from the bland. Suits and leather jackets began popping up in city streets, replacing the utilitarian outfits of the past.
Moving into the late 1990s and early 2000s, China’s urban streets turned into runways with the rapid embrace of every-day fashion. Global trends came crashing onto the scene and, suddenly, people were starting to mix and match like pros. With the influx of international high-end brands in particular, from Italian couture colossus Gucci to French powerhouse Chanel, the race for high fashion was officially on, and the country’s most quickly developing urban areas, packed with eager consumers, became bonafide style hubs.
With the birth of Shanghai Fashion Week (SFW) in 2003,China was ready to sashay down the runway.
Sensen Lii and his Windowsen brand collection are a Shanghai Fashion Week 2020 Spring/Summer highlight. Image via Shanghai Fashion Week
Tailored For Greatness
SFW has been the talk of the town for over two decades, but in the last 10 years, it has transformed the city into a veritable fashion mecca—where glamour meets the gritty pulse of urban life.
Take, for instance, designers like Masha Ma, who has become a globe-trotting fashion darling with her eponymous label based between Shanghai and Paris. Ma’s designs offer a masterclass in femininity laced with an industrial edge. Or dial up the drama with Sensen Lii’s outrageously outlandish label Windowsen, which has captured imaginations–and headlines–with (at times) alien-inspired couture. Fun fact: American rapper Cardi B. rocked one of Lii’s over-the-top black tulle gowns at this year’s Met Gala in New York City on May 6. And let’s not forget the femme fatale energy of Shushu/Tong, a dynamic womenswear brand adored by Hollywood actress Sydney Sweeney and American singer Olivia Rodrigo.
Starting from Shanghai’s runways, these Chinese brands and designers, together with many more, have become fashion forces to be reckoned with.
One hot ticket item for the upcoming 2025 Spring/Summer SFW, starting on October 9, is the return of veteran designer Chen Anqi. Anqi’s ANGEL CHEN label is a love letter to China’s vanishing handicrafts, infused with modernity through collaborations like her forthcoming one with Chinese tea brand CHAGEE, which focuses on offering healthier products and spreading Chinese tea culture, to explore Eastern aesthetics. What stands out here is how Chen’s work intersects with guochao—the unstoppable fashion movement dominating the Chinese scene since 2018.
And so we move from catwalk to sidewalk.
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Guochao, literally meaning “national tide” and also referred to as China Chic, is a tsunami of style merging traditional Chinese cultural elements with modern design. Chinese athletic apparel brand Li-Ning thrust guochao into the limelight when they owned the runway at the 2018 New York Fashion Week’s Tmall China Day (where yours truly was present and raised a question mark or two, as can be seen in the linked article–and boy, did I underestimate the powerful fashion wave that show would unleash), leaving other fashion brands scrambling to cop a piece of the action.
Li-Ning’s collection that year included calligraphy-inspired prints and ancient motifs transformed into streetwear that shouted, “I’m proud of my roots!”
Guochao has since evolved far beyond fashion into Chinese toy and tech design, and even the food and beverage scene.
Fun fact: Dramas set in imperial times have contributed a lot to the popularity of hanfu, the traditional dress of the Han Chinese. It’s big biz. Image: online
Under guochao’s cultural umbrella, we’ve seen the rise of hanfu, the traditional dress of the Han Chinese. What began as an online fringe subculture in the 2000s has exploded into a full-blown industry in recent years, worth 14.47 billion yuan ($2.06 billion) as of late 2023, according to Statista.com.
Then, there’s xinzhongshi or “New Chinese Style,” where modern designs are infused with traditional Chinese aesthetics across everything from clothing to home decor.
And let’s not forget minzufeng, which embraces the intricate designs of China’s 56 ethnic groups, weaving regional identities into the nation’s street-style drapery.
Promo poster for hit drama series Blossoms Shanghai, released in December 2023. The show inspired a style throwback to the 1990s among many young Chinese, who embraced the retro aesthetic of a time when anything and everything seemed possible.
When Blossoms Shanghai, a drama series directed by Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai and set in 1990s Shanghai, then a budding economic powerhouse, hit the airwaves on December 27, 2023, it ignited a trending thirst for retro 90s fashion. Julienna Law, former managing editor of Jing Daily, the leading digital publication on the global business of luxury in China, told this author in January:
“While 90s fashion has been back in style for a while now, hit shows like Blossoms Shanghai are putting the spotlight on China’s particular version of 90s vintage. I think one reason for the popularity of the show’s style can be linked to guochao, which has only surged since the pandemic.”
The show’s success also tapped into a growing nostalgia for a bygone era of prosperity, when anything seemed possible, among many young Chinese.
Hashtag “dongbeidahua” on insanely popular (life)style-bible and e-commerce platform Xiaohongshu this January. Once considered “tu” (or “vulgar”), the exuberant floral pattern made a triumphant return into the wardrobes of many young Chinese in the PRC’s northern regions last winter.
A guochao fun fact: Last winter, the once-revered and once-reviled olive-drab PLA coats and nostalgic red dongbei dahua jackets resurfaced, thanks to a revival driven by young Chinese looking to their grandparents’ winter wardrobes for inspiration.
Platforms like Douyin, TikTok’s Chinese sister app, and Xiaohongshu, a super popular lifestyle and e-commerce app, were flooded with tutorials on how to style these pieces for the modern day.
Their retro-chic aesthetic also served as a throwback to simpler times in today’s high-paced urban rat race that many young Chinese struggle to keep up with.
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Circular Revolution
Speaking of “olive-drab”… Green is the new black. With a strong push from the Chinese Government for a greener future, brands like Icicle and Ban Xiaoxue are turning eco-consciousness into a runway revolution. Bamboo fabrics, zero-waste designs and sustainable production methods are making sustainability a hot commodity.
Designer Joyce Wang of the JOYCE WANG ECO FASHION label, who, by the way, has previously employed indigo-dyeing techniques from the Buyi ethnic minority in southwest China’s Guizhou Province, told the author: “Fashion doesn’t have to sacrifice style for sustainability. Many of my clients are looking to buy something they love and are willing to invest in—because they will be wearing it for many years to come. And this type of thinking is quickly spreading among Chinese consumers.”
A sustainable fun fact: SFW 2025 Spring/Summer will collaborate with the Yangtze River Delta region, gathering 10 prominent material enterprises to showcase their sustainable feats. Fast is out, slow is in. A mindset that you can see pop up in other trending styles, too.
Thanks to social media darlings Douyin and Xiaohongshu, gorpcore, mountaincore and urbancore have become ubiquitous. Whether it’s camping, glamping, hiking or rock climbing, young urbanites are rocking the outdoors in style, all in the name of slowing down and pursuing fitness and mindfulness. These utility-chic styles, blending rugged outdoor wear with urban flair, often feature smart fabrics (think jackets that adjust to your body temperature).
Technology has been weaving itself into every thread of the fashion industry. Major Chinese e-commerce players like Tmall and JD.com have turned shopping into an immersive experience powered by augmented reality and artificial intelligence technologies, and tech-driven designs and smart textiles are making their way into everyday wardrobes.
The ultimate urbancore mashup, courtesy of social media darlings Douyin, TikTok’s Chinese sister app, and Xiaohongshu.
Chinese street fashion is a kaleidoscope of influences, from the chill swagger of Lo-Fi Hip-Hop youth culture to subcultures like cyberpunk hanfu, a mashup of flowing traditional robes with hi-tech aesthetics like neon lights, and metallic fabrics. Trends and subcultures are flashing and flitting about in today’s PRC, as far as the eye can see. But all in all, young Chinese are saying, “This is who I am,” with every outfit.
One final sartorial component that continues to stand out as a constant among the ever-fleeting China Fashion crowd is genderless streetwear, a fusion of tight and loose, masculine and feminine, luxury and casual.
As was the case some 70 years ago, the androgynous dress code is once again the new normal, but this time around it was chosen by the people, not for the people. From practical for work, to practical for play.
And so we have come full circle.
From Mao suits to modern streetwear, from practical uniforms to cutting-edge couture, the story of fashion in the PRC is a story of social transformation.
From coupons to couture, the threads of history are woven into every fabric, proving that, sometimes…
Style is the ultimate statement of progress.
THIS IS AN EDITED VERSION OF ELSBETH VAN PARIDON’S ARTICLE FIRST PUBLISHED IN BEIJING REVIEW, VOL.67, ISSUE 40/41, OCTOBER 4, 2024
FEATURED IMAGE: AI-CRAFTED COLLAGE THAT TAKES YOU ON A JOURNEY THROUGH THE PRC’S SARTORIAL LANDSCAPE FROM THE 1950s INTO THE 2020s. COLLAGE CONTAINS TWO REAL PHOTOS:
TOP: STILL FROM STREETDANCE OF CHINA, SEASON 5, IMAGE VIA YOUKU
BOTTOM LEFT: MAO ZEDONG PICTURED IN 1939, IMAGE: ONLINE
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Perpetually in pursuit of the greater good that is “China Fashion”, van Paridon set up The China Temper to help promote the dynamite dynamic fashion scene sprouting within Beijing, Shanghai, and China overall. Catering to anybody and everybody who reads English and/or Chinese, Temper covers all the basics and bases. From China's street style scenery to its budding photographers, internationally renowned designers, and underground quirks plus phenomena: We present one hot-hip-happening current collective weaving The New "Made in China" tag.
The term “Made in China” is undergoing the ultimate 21st Century makeover. Escorted by the increasingly strong influence of a new thinking among China’s younger generations, regarding individuality and the expression thereof, the fashion scene in the Middle Kingdom is exploding. And stretches far beyond what meets the eye. It’s appliqué, one might say.
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